


Race Across the Woods

by Pyro04



Category: The School for Good and Evil - Soman Chainani
Genre: Good and Evil, Good versus Evil, Multi, Next Generation, Next-Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-20
Updated: 2020-06-30
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:08:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24288694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pyro04/pseuds/Pyro04
Summary: A lost Princess struggling to find herself.The woods wants her to be good, needs her to be good, but is she really? Deciding she needs to figure things out for herself, Morgan Pendragon sets off on her own adventure through the woods where she will meet three new friends. Can these new friends help her? Or will she have to take this journey alone?
Relationships: Agatha/Tedros (The School for Good and Evil), Anadil/Hester (The School for Good and Evil)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 9
Collections: SGE Fandom Big Bang





	1. The Young Princess

A young, and dirty, child runs through the halls of the Camelot Castle. Behind her run three maids, all tired and out of breath. The child was covered in mud, her dress was torn, and her dark hair a nest. “Catch me if you can,” yelled the child as she turned a hard right into another corridor. 

“Miss please,” A maid yelled, “stop running!” The maid had long blond hair tied neatly into a bun that held tight to the back of her head. Regardless of her pleading, the child continued to run and giggle until she hit the end of the hall with nowhere else to go. The three maids skidded to a stop and began cautiously walking toward the child. “Now, Miss, no more running. You’re filthy and in need of a bath.” The child smirked at the maid before throwing herself into the wall of the small hallway. Part of the wall spun the child into another room away from the frustrated women. The child could hear a strained yell, and angry footsteps, before she fell to the soft carpet. 

The only sound in the room was the crackling fire burning bright from its bed of stone. The light reflected off red and gold walls, easily brightening the small room. In the center of that room was a golden, and messy, desk. Sitting at the desk, smiling down at the little girl, was a well-built man with wavy blond hair and the bluest eyes. He dawned regal clothing and looked as if he had hopped straight out of a fairy tale.

“Well well well,” the man started as he moved his large chair back from the sturdy desk. “Who do we have here? Didn’t expect a visit from the princess today.” He patted his lap, motioning for the girl to sit. Excitedly she jumped from her place on the floor, running and taking her new place on the blond’s lap.

“Now, have you been causing mischief again?” The child's green eyes looked up to make eye contact with the man, whose lap she was currently occupying, to see a suspiciously raised brow. 

Quickly looking away, she crossed her arms and pouted out a “no.” 

“Oh, of course not,” the man seemingly relaxed in his chair. “I was only wondering how you have gotten yourself so dirty.” He brushed dirt and mud from the child’s face, as well as he could.

“I told you, Dad!” the little girl’s face sunk into a deeper pout, “I did nothing wrong this time!”

“Ok,” He raised his arms defensively with a chuckle before reaching into his desk. “How about some chocolate for my little princess then, if you’ve been so good.” He pulled out a small chocolate bar with the symbol of Naughtingham printed on the front. As he lifted it to the child, her eyes lit up and her head began to move up and down franticly. With another chuckle, the man gleefully gave the bar to the child.

When he raised his head, there in the doorway of the small room stood a woman. Her face was twisted into an angry glare, as she coughed into her fist, her large brown eyes fixed on the man. As the blond made eye contact with the woman he quickly sat up shooing the child off his lap to stand next to the desk. 

“My Queen,” he spoke hesitantly from his large chair, “to what do I owe the pleasure?” He rose from his chair and moved carefully to stand at the front of his large desk leaning back onto it casually.

The woman moved into the room, motioning for the child. “We have talked about this,” the child did as she was told, moving from the place beside her father to that of her mother. “We don’t reward her for bad behavior!” The woman held out her hand. For a moment the child simply looked up at the woman and stared. A quick glare changed that and the chocolate was quickly placed into her empty hand. 

“Whatever are you talking about,” the father tried to look as though he was in fact clueless.   
“You mean to tell me, Your Majesty, that you were unaware that your daughter harassed her fencing instructor, harassed her nanny, and then commenced a ‘game’ of chase, around your castle with Mrs. Davion and two others in which you assigned to her?” With each event she spoke of, the dark-haired mother grew closer and closer to the male. “You cannot keep ignoring her actions Tedros!” 

“This again,” Tedros did not want to hear the same lecture from his wife yet again. “I am not ignoring anything. Morgan is a child,” He gestured, with a flick of his hand, toward the child behind her as he began walking back to his chair, “and, as you know, children will be children.” 

“You can’t be serious,” the queen had obviously become more irritated at the man’s words. “Her age is no excuse, children must be taught the difference between right and wrong!” She walked over to the desk and slammed her hands down in frustration, “Children do not simply grow up knowing what is good and bad, it is our duty as parents to make her understand.”

The king seemed to only be annoyed by his queen’s actions, “Agatha, you are overreacting. It was simply a bar of chocolate, we can talk about this more at dinner or something once you have calmed down. You may leave now, I’m busy.” He focused his attention back to the papers on his messy desk, reverting back as he had been before his daughter had flown into the study.

Agatha stood from her slightly hunched position, removing her hands from the desk. She stomped off toward the door grabbing Morgan’s wrist as she left. The queen’s footsteps were fast and firm, it seemed as though all of Camelot could hear the ferocious stomps of her heavy black clumps. Her face was twisted into a frown of disappointment and frustration as she glaired ahead, tugging her dirty child behind.


	2. Mischief in Camelot

Camelot Castle is in a panic. Guards and maids with large buckets of water rush around frantically trying to control the raging fire. Sneaking away from the scene is a young girl around the age of fifteen. Her tightly braided dirt-colored hair reaches out for the beltline of her navy pants as she, quietly, crouches down; trying to get away before she is noticed. Looking behind to make sure no one has seen her, she begins to move quicker. Soon she had reached the door successfully, without being caught. However, something or rather someone was blocking her escape. 

The girl raised her head to see the, all too familiar, stern face of Mrs. Davion. The old maid’s face always looked as if the blond bun, sitting neatly at the back of her slim head, had been tied much too tight for anyone’s liking. Seeing her, the sly smile once held by the younger female quickly faded into a frown, “Oh no.” 

“Morgan!” The maid’s piercing brown eyes seemed like they could cut right through her, “Stand up.” Her voice was husky and firm, it could make an entire room stop to listen with only a word. The girl reflexively snapped into a standing position. It wasn’t long before Mrs. Davion had taken Morgan up by the ear, dragging her out of the kitchen, down a long hallway, and up many flights of stairs. 

The maid came to a halt at two large doors guarded by two fairly large men in Camelot’s shining red armor, engraved with the golden head of a proud lion staring from the chest plate. The guards shared a look before throwing open the two doors revealing a massive room decorated in the bright reds and golds of Camelot. A long red carpet lined with large worn statues of long-dead knights led to the bottom of a stairway, at the top of that stairway sat two equally luxurious golden chairs belonging to the king and queen of Camelot. 

Sitting in the right chair is a woman with short black hair whose face is twisted in disappointment. Her brows furrowed deeper as the two approached, “What is it that you have done this time, Morgan?” 

Mrs. Davion stopped at the bottom of the stairs letting go of Morgan’s, now red, ear. “What makes you so sure that I’ve done anything, Mother?” She rubbed her ear in annoyance looking up as to make eye contact with the queen, her mother. 

“Perhaps, It’s because this is the third time this week you have been dragged in here by Mrs. Davion.” The large brown eyes became narrow slits in the queen’s face.

“I was simply playing around in the kitchen when the fire started.” Morgan lowered her eyes, refusing to look any longer at her disappointed mother.

“Oh, I see, so this was simply a wrong place wrong time sort of thing, right?” Agatha sat back in her chair looking down at her daughter with slightly softened eyes.

“Exactly!” Morgan exclaimed, her eyes instantly shooting back to her mother, thinking she had come to an understanding of the situation. 

“You don’t honestly think we believe that do you, Morgan?” Her eyes narrowed back, harsher than before. “You need to grow up and stop this foolishness! You're not a child anymore, Morgan. In just another year you’ll be off to school, do you think the Dean is going to tolerate this kind of behavior?”

“Of course not, Mother,” Morgan turned her head to the side and away from her mother once more, so she could not see the girl’s brows start to furrow. 

The queen let out a long sigh as her facial features started to loosen back up, “Morgan,” she started, “You need to start thinking ahead. Go to your room, and use this time for some well-needed reflection as well as planning for your future. Who do you want to be?” 

“But mother-” Morgan was cut off before she could finish.

The young queen’s face jumped back into a glare, “You are not to come out until we send for you. That is final, Morgan.”

The princess looked up to her father for help, but the blond simply shook his head. Mrs. Davion quickly bowed before grabbing Morgan’s arm which is harshly yanked away. The girl marched out of the chamber and down the hall to her room. She flung herself onto her bed staring up at the stary canopy. She freely allowed a few tears to roll down her cheeks as she whispered to herself, “I’m sorry.”

Not a moment later a loud rasping came from the other side of the large cedar door. Morgan jolts up to a seating position on the edge of her bed, fixing herself and wiping any strays from her face she quickly responded, “Not now, Davion. I wish to be left alone.” 

“Very well my lady, I will be down the hall shall you need anything.” Harsh footsteps grow softer as Mrs. Davion turned into a separate room. 

Being alone once more Morgan fell back onto the bed, the long braids flung to the sides and she released a heavy sigh as she hit the soft mattress. She allowed her eyes, softly, to drift shut, and her mind to wonder quietly. Soon, the girl had drifted off to sleep as slow pictures began to play.


	3. A Dream or a Warning

Long dark braids fly behind the slim, well-built, body of the princess as she franticly runs through the streets of Camelot. Quickly, she glances behind her at the bright flickering of torches, casting shadows of pitchforks. A rock takes her footing and she loses her balance, casting her to the ground. Underneath her, the ground begins to liquefy, the road turning into what seems like a river. Half of it mud, the other shining crystal water. 

The flickering fades off as she is left in darkness. She squints around for something, anything. To her left a white light fades into view, taking the shape of a swan. It pulls her closer to the clear water of the river. At the same time, on the other end of the lake, a green light also in the shape of a swan appears. Tempting her to its side of sludge. 

Morgan looks frantically from one light to the other, desperately looking for help as she starts to sink, neither light does a thing but sit there, motionless. Before her head goes under, she gets a glimpse of a very tall tower made of stone, sitting at the window is a golden light with no shape. The sight is quickly taken from her as her head becomes completely submerged in water.

Morgan shoots up in bed looking around quickly, checking that everything in her room is how she had left it. Realizing that it was, she allowed herself to take a deep breath, putting her head in her hands, and closing her eyes once more. She sat there for a second, allowing visions and playbacks of the dream to repeat themselves. When she lifts her head to look around the room once more, two fuzzy lights sit at opposite ends of her room. Only for a second, as she quickly rubs her eyes and they are gone again. Morgan stands from her sweaty, damp bed, slipping on the fuzzy shoes that lay next to it. 

Quietly she slides open the large cedar door, wincing at the creaks of the old rusty hinges, slipping out as quickly as she could, trying not to make a sound. She sneaks through the corridors of the castle making her way to the courtyard.

As she slid through the open door, taking a deep breath of fresh air. The wind blowing softly, tugging at her red nightgown. The fresh moon and stars light up the yard in a soft yellow glow. She takes a seat on a nearby bench relaxing for the first time as she looks at the life around her. 

“How simple it must be, the life of a plant; Much simpler than that of a princess.” She whispers to herself looking at the small purple flowers dancing around her feet.

In the peaceful silence, it was easy to pick up on the faint voice cutting through it all. She turned towards the source of the noise, trying to make out anything, even just a few words. Finding she could not, she snuck in that direction. 

As she grew closer and the feminine voice grew louder, she could pick out how it sounds. She couldn’t, yet, make out any words. However, she could tell it sounds sad, worried, and confused. She was finally close enough to make out a word, and it surprised her. Because the only word she could make out, from the current distance, was her name. It came as a second surprise to hear a second voice. This one, much deeper than the first and equally as concerned. 

She is finally close enough to hear, hiding behind a large oak tree that stands at the center of the yard. “I’m sure this will work itself out, Agatha. There is no need to be worried I’m sure of it.” The second voice was still talking.

“And if it doesn’t? Tedros we send her off to school in a year!” Morgan recognized her parents’ voices. Why were they talking about her? Curious, she poked her head around, just enough to see. Her mother sat on the edge of a fountain, depicting King Arthur, her father paced in front of it.

“I know that.” Her father stopped his pacing, obviously trying to reassure his wife but, was not so good at it. Trying to get a better view, Mogan moved slightly, putting her weight on a nearby bush. Not being able to support that weight, the bush cracked a little making a slight sound. Alarmed, her mother glanced in the direction of the bush, and Morgan quickly pulled her head back to hiding.

“Do you though?” Agatha refocused her attention to her husband, “You should be just as worried as I am about this!” Her mother’s voice was getting louder as she got more and more frustrated.

“Morgan is not a bad kid.” Morgan’s brows furrow in confusion. Is that what her mother thought, that she was a bad kid?

“No of course not. I’m just worried, what if this new schoolmaster- if she gets in enough trouble- what if he decides she isn’t cut out for good.” Agatha’s voice gets really soft at the end, it is almost too soft for Morgan to make out. Almost. 

“Don’t say that.” Her father’s voice is muffled as if he were looking down. “That won’t happen.”

“Tedros,” her voice is almost cold as the words touched Morgan’s ear, “what if she isn’t cut out for Good?”

Morgan slides her back down the tree, hand covering her mouth as to not make a sound. Her whole body is quivering and she didn’t know what she felt or what she is supposed to feel. Fear? Confusion? Heartbreak? Betrayal? Maybe it’s all of those things. Whatever it is, it took control. Faster than she could think, Morgan was running, running away from the courtyard, running away from her parents, trying to run away from herself. When she gets to her room, she slammed the door, locking the bolt from the inside. 

Frantically, she runs around the room throwing things into an old leather sling bag she keeps under her bed. Clothes, some food, water, anything she could find that she might need. She packed it full and jumped out the window. She couldn’t stop running, she ran through Camelot and out the giant gate, she ran into the woods, as far as she could. She didn’t want to see, she didn’t want to think, she just wanted to run, feeling the night air on her skin, whipping her hair back and her breath leaving her body in short pants.


	4. A Good Meeting

The old leather bag, repeatedly, bounces off of Morgan’s left leg as she takes long strides. Panting and sweating her legs ache for her to stop, but she refuses. She runs deeper and deeper into the woods, the dark of the night closing in around her. Soon, Morgan could see nothing. Realizing how far she has gotten, she slowed to a stop, planting her feet and making a circle to look around.

“What was I thinking!” She spins faster and faster, looking left and right trying to find out where she was. Just then she heard something break, she froze not wanting to find out what it was. A low growl escaped the bush in front of her. Morgan’s eyes got big as they met larger red ones, she turns on her heel and flees as fast as her tired legs will take her. She can hear the rustling and panting of the thing following her. Fear had taken over, she could no longer feel the cramping pains in her leg, only the raising of her heart as she tries to run faster. 

Soon the air around her grows cold, she can no longer hear the growling and panting of the thing behind her. Reluctantly, she stopped, looking behind her. As she did, she realizes it was bright again. Perhaps she has made her way back? Morgan took a deep breath of freezing air and fell to her knees with exhaustion. The ground is soft and cold, she looks down to see the moonlight reflecting off fresh snow, quickly she looks around. 

Directly in front of her stood the dark, dense forest she had just escaped, behind her is a different world the likes of which she has never seen. Morgan forced herself up and forward threw the thick snow, looking out into the white sea. In the distance is a stone structure Morgan’s eyes could not quite make out, for the second time that night, curiosity overwhelms her and she trudges forward towards it. As she gets closer it becomes clearer. It’s an old stone castle, or what’s left of it. 

Morgan remembered back to the stories her father had told her about a castle just like this one. It was in her mother’s tale as well, as she explores in awe it is as if she has forgotten all about running away. She scrapes her hand over every wall, feeling every cold stone she can. Her hand stops at the edge of an opening, a window. Curiously she grabs hold of the windowsill and leans out into the open. Her eyes are instantly drawn to a dip in the snow; through further inspection Morgan found it to be a frozen lake. 

Curiosity heightened, she raises back out of the stone ruins and to the frozen water. She brushes away the stray snow that has fallen on top of the glistening ice roof. When Morgan’s eyes meet her own, her first instinct is to look away, she fights it. Closely, she examines the features of the reflection, moving from the chin to the nose, then the eyes. She stares into those strange eyes for much too long, trying to figure out who they belonged to. 

“Who are you?” She whispered at her reflection. Without a warning, the wind begins to howl, and snow begins to fall. Soon everything is masked in a blanket of white. Morgan attempts to shield her face by wrapping her arms around her head. The roaring wind pushes her backward onto the ice. Everything happens quickly: the ice creaks, Morgan is pushed further onto the ice, it quivers under her weight, and then it breaks, Morgan is plunged into the ice-cold water, everything goes black.

The lights return, Morgan is now in the center of a small room. To the right is the white-lit swan, and to the left is the green-lit swan. The scene lasts only a moment before the room starts to spin and they are in a new location. She is now sitting in a lonely chair in the aisle of a large theater. The pews to her right are beautifully crafted in colors of pink and blue. The pews to her left are worn and made of wood. Before Morgan is a silver stage split down the middle, on the stage is a two-headed dog. One head looked mean and rabid, the other cute and cuddly. 

The cuter one was talking into the theater with no audience and didn’t seem to notice Morgan at all. “So let me first remind you why you are all here. All children are born with souls that are either Good or Evil. Some souls are purer than others-”

“AND SOME SOULS ARE CRAP!” The rabid one barked.

“As I was saying,” the cuter continued, “some souls are purer than others, but all souls are fundamentally Good or Evil. Those who are Evil cannot make their souls Good, and those who are Good cannot make their souls Evil-”

Morgan rose from her chair and tried to speak but nothing came out. She grasped her throat and tried again but nothing. She needed to ask, which one am I? The scene froze before the rabid head could bark again and everything was back to black. 

She jolted awake and instantly grabs her head regretting the action. She saw a flash of yellow before looking up to see a girl around her age in a yellow dress. She took the cloth that had fallen into Morgan’s lap and dipped it into the steaming bowl of water that lay next to her, then placing it on Morgan’s forehead. Shocked and confused, Morgan studied the girl. She looked like a typical princess with a small waist, tiny hands, and full lips. Her maple hair sat perfectly at shoulder length and her full blue eyes concentrated on her task. When green met blue the girl gave an award-winning smile that showed off a perfect set of pearly white teeth.

“Where am I?” Morgan moved the girl’s hand gently from her forehead to the girl’s own lap.

“You are at a patrol camp in Jaunt Jolie. We found you washed up on a beach not too far from here, figured the pirates got to you.” The girl stood up, from the spot she was on the ground, brushing the dirt off her bright yellow dress. When she walked further away it was revealed that Morgan was laying rather close to a fire. “Although you were awfully cold.” She dumped out the bowl of warm water into a larger pot above the fire. “How did you manage to get so cold at this time of year?”

Morgan tried sitting straight up but ended up only getting halfway there. “Who are you?” She asked, head in hand.

“You’re asking an awful lot of questions for a stranger I found past out on the beach.” Her maple hair flipped as she turned, hands-on-hips, to face Morgan once again. “I’m Destiny of Jaunt Jollie. Now I ask the questions. Who are you?” 

Morgan finally managed to sit fully up, realizing she was in different, looser, clothes. Her nightgown was replaced by a white blouse, two buttons undone, untucked from long brown pants. “Morgan of Camelot.” She bowed her head before looking back up to meet Destiny’s eyes.

“Well Morgan, mind explaining how you got across the woods and why?” It was obvious to Morgan that Destiny didn’t trust her. Her eyebrow was raised and the smile gone, her eyes searched Morgan for any sign of a lie.

“I’m not quite sure myself to be honest.” She scratched her head, “One minute I was racing out of the Castle the next I had fallen into a lake.” Destiny locked eyes with Morgan, staring for a long time as if looking at her soul, then sighed and came to sit next to her again.

“So what are you doing here?” 

“Still not sure on that one. Tell you when I figure it out.” She laughed rubbing the back of her neck. “What about you? What’s the camp for?”

Destiny nodded looking ahead as if something was there, “Jaunt Jolie used to have a large pirate problem, most of them were run off by the queen after she returned from school. There are camps of troops all-around shore to ward off any that dare to come back.” 

Morgan had remembered this. Her mother talked about the Queen from time to time. “Beatrix.” She mumbled to herself.

Destiny continued, “As princess, it’s my duty to visit each camp. To make sure everything is running smoothly and whatnot.”

“I thought you looked like a princess.” Morgan smiles, eyeing her giggling. 

Destiny smiled back and pushed her playfully a bit, “Oh yeah? What are you then? Back in Camelot.” 

Morgan’s face drooped for a moment as she thought back to everything that had happened. The determination she had felt before was back, this was her chance to find out who, and what, she was. “Morgan?” Destiny waved her hand around in front of Morgan’s face. 

Lie. “Uh, no one,” she hurried out. The back of her neck burnt a slight red. 

Destiny jumped at the sudden answer, “Oh, ok. I can take you back to the main part of the kingdom tomorrow morning. Figure out where to go from there. For now, you need to get some more rest.” Destiny stood again and walked into one of the tents after receiving a nod from Morgan.


	5. Day In the Sun

Morgan’s eyes open to a bright morning. She could hear a morning dove in the distance and ocean air fills her lungs. She sits up and takes a look around the now well-lit camp. She is lying next to a fire ring filled with leftovers of the night before, around it there is a pastel tent in every direction. Just past the blue tent directly in front of her is a sandy beach leading out into the ocean.

Destiny exits the pink tent to Morgan’s right. This morning she was wearing a bright purple dress, opposed to the yellow one from the night before. Besides the color, the two dresses were identical. Both are white-collared, fall just above the knee, and have a set of three buttons starting at the top that reach to the ribboned waistline. She prances over to Morgan and hands her another set of clothes, identical in every way to the one she currently has on.

“You can change in the pink tent if you want. Figured it would be nice to have a cleaner set of clothes.” Destiny gave her award-winning princess smile again, earning a nod and “thank you” from Morgan. 

When she came back out, her white blouse had the top button undone and was tucked into the long brown pants, bag hanging at her side. Her long brown braids were retightened and perfectly back at her sides, and her face was washed. Morgan felt revived, it was nice after everything that has happened. 

“Thanks again.” It was her turn to smile at the girl who was patiently waiting for her outside the tent. 

“No problem. Shall we head to the castle then?” She enthusiastically jumped up swinging her arms to her sides. Her bright blue eyes looking expectantly at Morgan.

“Absolutely, I was thinking we would take a bit of a detour.” She tapped her chin, “It’s not often I leave Camelot, I would love to see your kingdom. If you don’t mind.” She bowed at the waist, popping her head up to smile at the princess. 

“That’s a wonderful idea. We can start in the marketplace just outside the main town.” Her eyes lit up, Morgan liked that. It happened every time she would talk about Jaunt Jolie. 

“A wonderful idea princess.” Morgan held her arm out for her. With a laugh Destiny took it and they were on their way. 

It takes the girls a few hours to reach the marketplace, but they didn’t mind. The journey consisted of many fun stories and jokes, mostly told by Destiny. Morgan learned about her duties as princess beyond dinner parties and royal balls, for example, Destiny was in charge of border patrol and shore guard. Until she went off to school that is. 

Soon enough they came across a beautiful market with strong wooden stalls lining the street. Each vendor was different from the last. The entire market was aglow with life, people packed the street, all smiley and happy. 

I don’t remember anything like this in Camelot. Morgan made sure to take it all in, the life, the color, the chatter, everything.

“Great isn’t it?” Destiny’s eyes lit up again, “Everyone always seems so happy. The kingdom’s been thriving since Mom ran off all those pirates.”

“And you don’t have trouble with neighboring kingdoms?” Morgan turned back to the shorter girl.

“Not much. We try to stay out of conflicts and other kingdom’s business. It’s worked well so far.” She smiled up at her, “Anyway, the castle town is just on the other side of the market.” 

Morgan’s smile quickly turned into a sly smirk as she took off running, “Race ya!” She yelled back.

“That is so not fair!” Destiny yelled, throwing off her heels, she ran after Morgan. 

Morgan pushed through the crowd of people, Destiny was catching up. Just as she was about to catch up Morgan saw a ladder. All the buildings on this road were close enough together for their roofs to be touching or close enough. She sprinted to the latter and frantically climbed. Watching from the street Destiny called after her, “You’ve obviously done this before!” 

“First time actually.” She hopped and sprinted from rooftop to rooftop. Destiny was falling further and further behind and the crowd got thicker on the street. Morgan finally made it to the gate of Joint Jollie’s castle town and waited. After a few minutes, she started to get worried. Morgan climbed back up onto the roofs and made her way back through the market looking for Destiny. She found her still trying to push through the crowd.

Morgan gave a sharp whistle that seemed to get Destiny’s attention. She stuck her hand out into the street below. Destiny quickly made her way over to grab it. Morgan hoisted her onto the roof, “You alright there princess?” She laughed. 

“Better now. That crowd was a beast.” She brushed the skirt of her dress down and fixed her hair back into place. “Nothing we couldn’t handle though.” Destiny laughed, standing up. She warbled at the new terrain, luckily Morgan steadied her. The two made their way back to the castle town gate. 

Entering the large castle town Morgan’s eyes wander the landscape gazing at the small houses and shops. The people are all happily buzzing about their daily lives. Then Morgan’s attention is drawn to a missing poster on a shop side: Missing-- Princess Morgan Pendragon of Camelot. 

She rushed over and ripped it off the wall, looking at it over and over again. What was she doing? She had run away, fell in a lake, and now was prancing about at the other end of the woods. Destiny approached her, “You ok, Morgan?”

“Yeah. I.. Uh..” Her head was racing again. She didn’t quite know what to do, but she couldn’t stay here. She closed her eyes and focussed, the lights returned. This time the white light no longer surrounded a swan, instead, a short young girl wearing a collared dress that fell just above the knees. Her eyes shot open to Destiny, reading the sign in her hands. 

“Are you?” She held up the missing sign, Morgan was now face to face with herself once again. “You didn’t tell me you are the princess! You didn’t tell me you ran away! Or that you're missing?”

“I need a map.” She took the poster back and shoved it into her leather bag.

“A map? That’s what you worried about? From the looks of that,” she pointed to the leather bag, “we need to get you home.”

“Not yet, Destiny, please. I need a map, I can’t go home yet.”

“Why not? Your parents are probably worried sick!” 

“I can’t explain it. It’s just a feeling, I have somewhere else I have to go first. Please.” 

Destiny starts pacing struggling with herself before sighing in defeat, “Fine. But I’m not sending you into the woods with only a map. You’re lucky I found you last time.”

“Thank you.” Destiny grabs her arm and pulls her toward the castle.

“Now I know people are looking for you, we will have to go in through the window. You wait in my room, I’ll go grab you some food and a sword.” Destiny explained while they snuck up to the window. Quietly, they both snuck through. Doing as she was told, Morgan took a seat on the bed waiting while Destiny ran around the castle getting supplies. Once everything was gathered, Destiny made it back to her room.

“Alright here,” She handed it all over. There was at least a week’s worth supply of food and a silver sword, “this should be enough. Oh and the map. Where are you wanting to go?”

Morgan studied the map for a long while, her eyes drifted over all the kingdoms before she was drawn to one. “There,” she pointed.

“What? Are you sure? Bloodbrook is no place for a princess. It’s full of… Nevers.” 

“I’m sure, that’s where I need to go.” She jabbed at the spot on the map once again.

“Alright, we'll sneak out the window again. The other gate is beside the blacksmith. Do be careful, Morgan.”

Already slipping out the window Morgan gave her a nod and reassuring wink. Just like that Morgan was gone. Destiny was left in her room and with a sigh, she plopped down onto her bed.


	6. New Place, New People

By the time Morgan reached BloodBrook territory, her food rations are low, and her legs are aching. An opening, in the dense forest, came into view ahead of her; a few children, looking around her age, are lunging around at each other, swords in hand. Curious, Morgan slowed her pace watching, making sure to stay in the shelter of thick brush. She could make out two of the children, both boys. The first was very large and dark-skinned, with a nest of greasy, matted hair. The second was slim and pale, his mischievous red eyes boring into the other, atop is long head sat a mop of ghostly white hair, all except the red at its tips. His face is sunken and boney, yet, not ugly. There is one more child in the clearing, a girl much younger than the other two, with short, awfully, dyed gray hair to match her silvery-gray eyes. The girl watches as the two boys take turns lunging at each other. The back and forth only lasted so long before the ghostly boy swept his sword lower taking out the larger one’s legs. The white boy’s sword is then held to the darker’s chest for a long moment as the victor smirks upon his win. 

Just as Morgan decides to make her way around the clearing, rather than mess with this bunch, the ghost’s red eyes found their way to the spot of brush Morgan was hiding in. making sure to not move, Morgan held her breath. She didn’t want any trouble from these kids. Suddenly, something flew past Morgan’s face, grazing her cheek as it went. In reflex, she wiped her head behind her to find the ghost’s sword trapped in a tree. Morgan’s hand made it’s way up to the new scratch as she looked back toward the clearing. She realized the red eyes of the ghost had never left her spot in the brush, she directed her own eyes to stare glare directly into his. 

“Is there something over there Tia?” The young girl piped up, squinting in that direction. Getting on her tiptoes, straining to see. 

Tia said nothing and took a step forward toward Morgan’s spot. Finding no better solution, Morgan stepped out of the brush and into the light of the clearing. She now had a clear view of the boy, he wore all black. His long-sleeve gray shirt had the sleeve’s rolled up to reveal pale arms and was tucked ruffly into black ripped pants. Tia took another step toward Morgan. 

“Haven’t seen you before.” His words were harsh and voice laced in venom. 

“Never seen you either,” Morgan replied, taking a step to the side trying to distance herself from him. She didn’t know why, but his stare made her uncomfortable. Tia did the same in the opposite direction, this movement continuing until they were circling each other. 

“You don’t look like your from around here.” His eyes narrowed, soon forming, demon-like, red slits in his pale sunken face.

“Looks can be deceiving.” She shot back, careful not to break eye-contact. 

Tia hummed looking her up and down, “Let’s hope, for your sake, they are. You look an awful lot like an Ever, to me, in that outfit.” His eyes landed on the sheathed sword hanging onto her belt. His mouth snaked upward into a half-cocked smile, “Unsheathe your sword.”

Morgan did as she was told taking the cold handle of her sword into the palm of her warm hand, “I won’t turn down a fight,” she let her own mouth slip upward into a smirk. Being the princess of Camelot, she knew her way around a sword. “Specialty one I can win.”

“Hope you can fight as well as you can talk,” Having no sword, he yanked a dagger from a loop on his pants. His venomous voice sent chills down Morgan’s spine as Tia lunged for her. She easily blocked, slightly squatting to get a lower shot before going into a lunge of her own. Tia was faster, the handle of his dagger came smacking down on her back before she could finish her attack. Although it caused her to stumble she was able to whip around and straighten back up, holding her sword defensively. “Not bad,” he cooed. 

Tia took a step back dropping his dagger. Morgan narrowed her eyes before sheathing her own sword.

“The name’s Tia. That’s Max,” He points to the green-eyed girl. “and over there is,” He paused before saying the larger male’s name. “Juge.”

Morgan nodded, her smirk returning, “I’m Morgan. It’s just me.” 

“Hm, I guess you’re alright,” He raised his eyebrow before turning to the other two. When he looked back at Morgan his face looked just plain malevolent. “Now, it’s time for your real test. Ready to go get in some trouble, Morgan?” 

“Huh?” Before she could question or retort, the smaller girl grabbed her wrist and yanking her in the direction Tia was now running. She was surprisingly strong for someone so little. Without thinking, Morgan was now running alongside Max trying to catch up to Tia. Behind them, Juge was panting and struggling to catch up. The three ahead just laughed at his efforts and began to run faster.


End file.
